


A thank-me-later call

by Oienel



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Phone Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 01:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15256047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oienel/pseuds/Oienel
Summary: Jongdae is not tech savvy. But he knows how to call for help.





	A thank-me-later call

**Author's Note:**

> This time Jongdae is calling to you for help. And it's his POV.

Jongdae isn’t good with technology. He knows enough to get by, but he is really not tech savvy. He is worlds away from that. Hell, he always joked that he is more of an analogue kind of guy. Which is not really a problem – he owns a smartphone, but he doesn’t feel the need to explore all of its hidden options, or even slightly advanced options. If it takes pictures, calls, lets him browse the internet and send messages – Jongdae is good. And really, if there is something that he’ll need – someone would surely help him out.

It was always like this – someone would come and provide Jongdae with something he really didn’t know he needed or wanted. And usually, he really needed that _thing_.

Like that first rolled-up porn magazine that his classmate excitedly pushed into his hand during recess back in junior high with excited _thank me later_.

That “thank me later” became a phrase that Jongdae learned to associate with _really_ good times. _Thank me later_ , he heard in high school, when his friend dropped a USB on his desk. _Thank me later_ was what he heard when Baekhyun installed an add-on in his browser that allowed him to change IP address, walked him through the basics and bookmarked one _American_ porn site for him. (Baekhyun even went as far as leaving post-it note next to the keyboard with an English-to-Korean translation of _categories_. Which Jongdae immediately discarded and later, faced with categories he couldn’t even understand after translation, he regretted having done that.)

So when he is chilling in his hotel room during CBX’s Japan Tour and Minseok just slides into his room and utters _you’re gonna thank me later_ and grabs Jongdae’s discarded notebook from a desk – Jongdae knows exactly what is going to happen.

Sure enough, Minseok is typing something into browser’s search box and Jongdae is just vaguely interested in what it is. The results would be more important. And so Minseok checks that the site loads correctly and offhandedly puts the notebook on Jongdae’s bed.

Jongdae doesn’t look at the site long after Minseok is gone. He tries to fool _himself_ that he is not _eager_ to check it out. It’s not a secret that in his line of work, one can be pretty lonely. Especially while on tour when he _can’t_ even see _his_ girl.

So finally Jongdae puts down the book he was reading and drags his notebook closer. He tries his best to navigate the site with his limited Japanese, and finally, he settles on something that doesn’t have a too long description and the girl doesn’t look ­ _too_ cute. He is pleasantly surprised that he doesn’t need to suffer weird dialogue and video skips right to fucking (which is surprising, to say the least).

But the thing is – it’s not right. He can feel himself getting aroused, the blood in his veins is starting to flow quicker, but he can’t bring himself to open his jeans. It feels strangely wrong, too brusque? Which is plainly weird – he usually doesn’t have problems with masturbation, it’s just tonight it doesn’t feel like it will be enough.

He sighs annoyed at himself. He’s gotten his hopes up (and something else entirely as well), and now he can’t even deal with that. His eyes slide down the screen and he checks the hour – it’s late considering that he has to wake up early. Truth be told he needs to wake up early _every day_ , so it’s not a surprise.

He pushes his laptop away, closes it, not bothering to log off. But he doesn’t stand up to go to the bathroom. He is feeling pretty helpless and moving seems like too much of a hassle. He can still feel the arousal shimmering in his blood and his cock is still pressing against the zipper.

That feeling can be nice. A little bit of discomfort before he gets to experience one of the best feelings in the world. One that he is not going to experience tonight. He blindly searches for his phone, ready to scroll down the sports’ page on naver.

But it’s like his thumbs have their own agenda, he finds himself texting _her_.

_You up?_

He stares at his phone dumbfounded and annoyed. It’s such a lame text. Especially in the middle of the night. And the longer he stares at those two words the more he thinks that his intentions couldn’t have been expressed in a way more brusque than that. And what if she is fast asleep (as a normal person should be) and she wakes up tomorrow to that text, only to realize that Jongdae was horny in the middle of the night and tried his luck. That could be awkward.

The night usually covers the embarrassment one would feel in the broad daylight.

When his phone vibrates in his hand, he has to close his eyes for a second. Just to compose himself. To exhale and to pray not to get scolded.

 _Yeah_.

It could have been better, but it also could have been much worse. There is a period in her reply, but _there is a reply._

_Where you at?_

This time the reply comes immediately.

 _Bed_.

The period is still there, which tells Jongdae that she is really trying to convey his annoyance, but he really can’t be bothered. He knows her bed. It’s narrow, obviously a single, and it’s old and it creaks when they fuck on it. Bed’s frame is quite high and more than once he hit it with his knee, more than once he held onto headrest when she rode him. The bed is just next to a wall, and that wall is always so cold against his back when they cuddle in bed afterwards.

_Nice._

He knows it’s not the right thing to send even when he writes it. And obviously, the reply doesn’t come. Jongdae can see in his mind how she reads it, laying on her side, eyes squinted in the dark, and she rolls her eyes and stuffs her phone under her pillow, shimmering deeper under the blanket.

His window is closing.

So he calls her.

It takes her four signals. Four signals of Jongdae pressing his phone against his ear, fearing that she might be too annoyed already, or that she put her phone on silent.

But she picks up.

She was always a keeper.

“What do you want?” He can hear her whine as soon as the call sound dies. He smiles, knowing that she can’t see that. He looks down at his crotch where his penis is still very much straining his pants.

“To talk?” He says, but it’s posed as a question. And he expects everything. He expects her to hang up. He expects her to logically point out all the reasons _not_ to do that. Hell, he expects her to go into it. Everything, but that.

“What am I? Sex phone operator?”

“That would certainly be handy.” Is it too much? It’s obviously a joke, and Jongdae manages to put enough of teasing inflexion in his words to be sure that she understands that – but Jongdae would be lying if he was to say that he didn’t mean that.

The silence is long enough for Jongdae to grow restless and consider apologizing. But finally, she snorts.

“Ok.” Jongdae throws his fist in the air, making sure not to make a sound. “I guess I can give you a proverbial hand.”

She is good. Of course, she is good – she knows him. And that one offhand, lewd pun is enough for warmth to start spreading in Jongdae’s chest. He fumbles for his headset, fully believing that it’s going to be worth it.

“Yeah, a hand would be nice.” He says, as he hopes, conversationally.

“And what has gotten you _up_ at this hour?” She asks, and Jongdae can only laugh breathlessly. He finally grabs the headset and connects it with his phone. “I hope it’s not Japanese porn?”

So he might have choked a little bit on that. But again, she _knows_ him.

“Kinda?”

“Then I really need to help you out.” She sounds resigned, but also quite serious. Jongdae knows that it’s only a façade and really – she is joking. “What do you want from me?”

That’s a hard question. He knows the frames of what he wants. He wants her to talk dirty to him. He wants her to paint a scene so real and so voluptuous that he’ll be on the verge of coming down his pants. He wants her to enjoy it, he wants her to enjoy the power she holds over him. But he doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t know if what he’ll ask won’t be too much. It shouldn’t because they have sex quite regularly (that should erase the embarrassment, right?).

“You know what? No.” Jongdae’s heart is dropping to his knees in this exact moment. “I am not a sex phone operator – so I will tell you what _I_ want.”

Jongdae hums, pleasant tingling spreading on his scalp. _Yes_. Very much _yes_.

“I’d love that.” He says, and she only laughs.

“I knew you would.” Jongdae leans back against his pillows, one hand idly rubbing his thigh. He wants to touch his dick, but he is pretty sure that it will be more rewarding if he waits for her to talk.

“I am ready to hear all of your fantasies.” He says. “Open right up, girl!”

“Please don’t.” She is stern, and he grins at his empty room – well, he might be horny, but the need to annoy her is ever-present.

“Wait do I get to browse the collection?” He asks, and her groan is enough to tell him that _no_.

“If you don’t shut up I won’t even give you a sample.” She warns and Jongdae does a motion of zipping his mouth – even though she can’t see that. But his silence seems to be enough of an answer because she exhales.

“I was told recently that none of us is a mind reader, and if I want something to happen I should _articulate_ that.” That is definitely not a start Jongdae was expecting, but he is sure that it’s going somewhere so he doesn’t say a thing. “And this moment is as good as any.”

He hums something, lightly tapping his fingers on the bed.

“Have you ever thought about going more _kinky_ in bed?”

That’s a surprise. One that has Jongdae bite his lower lip.

“I am certainly thinking about it now.” He supplies, because hell. _Of course_ , he thought about that. And if _kinky_ is where they are going – then Jongdae is more than happy to listen.

“Because I _did_.” She breathes the last word right into Jongdae’s ear and it sends a shiver down his spine. She’s good. She always was, she always will be – but does it mean that she wants to _go more kinky_ in real life? Because if yes, Jongdae will probably implode. “I thought about us fucking in your old bed.”

That’s quite confusing. His old bed? How is that kinky?

“In your family home. You know, when we go to visit your parents during holidays.” _Oh_. “I imagined us trying to keep quiet – because your parents would be sleeping in their room, and your brother in his, but we wouldn’t be able to contain ourselves.”

Jongdae might not be stoked about mentioning his family members in the plot, but he gets the excitement behind that. He knows he is loud. She is quite a moaner herself (but he is sure that he _is_ louder) – so that would raise their adrenaline levels. He can categorize it as mildly kinky.

“Noted.” He says, and she immediately understands that’s her cue.

“Well, still going down this route I imagined me sucking you off somewhere in public.” Jongdae’s hand finally cups his cock. The warmth of his hand and her unabashed comment is a really harmonious duo. “Because you do know that I like your cock, don’t you, Jongdae? I like to feel its weight on my tongue. I like to press the tip of my tongue just under the crown and I _love_ to scrape my teeth down your shaft – knowing how much it puts you on the edge.” Still not really kinky (except for the public part), but it’s enough for Jongdae to decide it’s a good time to pull down his zipper. “But I enjoy it more when it’s the other way around.”

Jongdae stops, feeling how hot his cock is through the soft cotton of his boxers. _The other way around, huh?_

“I like to get myself off imagining that we are somewhere in public. Library, my work, whatever – as long as there is a table. A table you can hide under so no-one can see you there. No one can see how you spread my knees, and how you dive under my skirt. No one can see how you dampen my already wet underwear with your breath and your tongue – but _I_ can feel it, and I can see people around, and _I_ have to fight to keep my sounds down. I can feel how you drag my underwear down, or not – you just push it to the side. And I have to fight down my blush, my whimpers, I have to fight my urge to slide down on the chair, because you are just that _good_. Damn, you are _so_ good.”

Her breath is heavier and her words are coming more fluently (even if less coherently). He loves the picture. He can feel it – her hot thighs under his hands, a cold floor under his knees, and her heady smell.  He can hear how she swallows down her moans and whimper, and he knows that he would do his best to make her fail. He hopes, oh he hopes so much that she won’t be able to withstand it, that she’ll touch herself while talking to him.

Because his hand is already circling his cock. He barely pushed down his underwear – her voice in his ear is more important than that.

“I also thought that wax might be interesting.” Jongdae whimpers. Wax, hot, _hot_ wax. “Like, we’d be at mine or at yours, but the set up would be romantic. You know, scented candles, music, all that shit. We don’t really get to fuck slowly, right? But this time we would. You’d blindfold me, you’d bind my hands – oh so my place would be better with the wooden headrest?” She is babbling, but he doesn’t mind because _not only_ wax but also bondage _and_ sensory deprivation. That is definitely not a _light_ deep into a realm of BDSM. “So I wouldn’t expect that. You’d be slow with your hands and lips and nose and teeth, and you’d worship me _because I deserve that_.” Jongdae smiles, hand twisting on his cock because she is coherent enough to dare him to negate her words. And he’d be mad to even _want to_. “But you’d take one of the candles, with that generic candle smell, and I would not expect a touch of hot wax on my skin. You’d let the drops of wax adorn my skin – back, belly whatever – and it would burn, but it would be so, _so_ good. I would be asking for more. I would be _pleading_ for more.”

Jongdae is losing _his_ coherency. Fast. He is already leaking onto his knuckles, spreading it around his cock for better glide. It’s good – it’s really good. Of course, her being next to him would be better – but still the picture she got in his head if far better than any porn.

In his delirious (now) state he realizes she is not talking. That something stopped her, and that is a no-no.

“Hi, Babe?” He prompts, pushing his forefinger just under the crown like she said she would. “You are _the_ best.”

He says that, but he says it to make her talk again. And he fully expects her to throw back some sassy answer like _obviously_ or something, but she doesn’t.

“Uh, that one might be… Anyway, it’s only my imagination, and yeah, I don’t expect you to like, fulfil it or anything… I just _enjoy_ it.”

And now, he has to hear it. He doesn’t have the slightest idea what that might be, but with a foreword like that? Damn, it must be _good_. And his hand stills on his cock, as he waits for her to resume taking.

“Well, I did warn you.” She says, and he can hear her shifting on the other end of the line. “You are on your knees. You have your arms bound behind you. You are naked, but I am not. Not exactly. I am in some kind of sexy lingerie and high heels and garters and maybe stockings. But it’s not important. The important part is how you look at me, eyes hot and wanting – but I am the one in power. And I am not hurrying, walking around you in a circle and tell you that you’ve been a bad boy. And I would have some kind of a riding crop in hand or something like that – but I would keep it on your back, slowly caressing your skin with leather. At least until I would decide to hit you. It wouldn’t be _that_ hard, but you’d lean forward, arms straining the bonds, and you’d hiss, or keen, or moan – because it would hurt, but just enough for it to rile you up. And you’d be there at my every command – because _I deserve it_.”

It might have been her fantasy, but now – it’s his. She painted the picture, but the details he is adding himself. His hand on his cock is familiar, and frantic because he can smell her skin and leather. He can feel the sudden outburst of pain on his back – going up to his brain and down to his cock. He can feel the rope (because it would be rope and not handcuffs) digging into his wrists and arms. He can feel the carpet on his knees – and he knows they would burn because of abrasions – but she would be so undeniably sexy. Black lingerie would look so exquisite against her skin, and the riding crop would be so threatening and so arousing in her manicured hand. He can imagine her in those dangerously high heels, with one of the stilettos’ heel on his thigh. It would hurt, it would leave a mark – but to be in her power? He’d do anything to experience that. And if she’d later fucked herself on him – mindless of his pleasure, just using him to get what _she_ wants? The bare thought has Jongdae biting his knuckle – his heartbeat is so fast that he can feel the pulsing of his whole body, his dick so sensitive, that he can’t help but sink his teeth deeper into his finger.

And then he hears that. Shuddering breath, quiet, but throaty, right in his ear. He stops, hand squeezing his dick way harder than he should, but he hears it again, accompanied by light rustling – and he knows, he simply _knows_ – that she is fingering herself. She is fingering herself on her old, creaking bed – and really Jongdae can’t hold off any longer.

There is no finesse. Finesse is for moments when she is with him. Finesse is for moments when he is the one fingering her, finesse is for moments when he can smell her arousal when he can taste her skin. He jacks himself off, hand twisting around the head with every slide up, and moments later he is coming, semen spilling on his hand, on his jeans, on his covers.

He is not sure if he moans, or if he wheezes, or if he comes silently. She will probably tell him later.

He sags against the pillows, only now realizing how wet his back is, how perspiration covers his face, how his chest heaves.

But she is still going on the other end. She sighs and mewls, and he wishes so much to be next to her at this moment. He is too spent to properly enjoy that, but he’d gladly give her _a hand_.

He doesn’t know how long he listens to her, with his come drying on his hand – but he knows that he’ll recall her like that the next time he misses her – how she got herself off on her fingers while talking about what she’d to _him_.

She comes with a high-pitched, but very familiar moan. He knows that it will be a moment before she’ll speak up again – and he fears (now that he can _think_ ) that she’ll be embarrassed about this. And he has to make sure that she knows that’s ok. And that he very much likes the ideas.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to find a way to explain my sudden interest in riding crops if guys happen to find one in my closet.”


End file.
